


oh baby, I must be mad

by yutayummy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Grinding, M/M, Making Out, Omorashi, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Watersports, brief humiliation, i believe that’s all, i guess??, it’s pissy but not too pissy, there’s a handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutayummy/pseuds/yutayummy
Summary: "I'm going to piss myself," Taeyong confusedly repeats. He doesn't mean for it to sound so broken, but he's half horny, half on the verge of a bladder infection and he's quite frankly too sensitive to ignore it any further.Doyoung blinks. "Then piss."
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 9
Kudos: 217





	oh baby, I must be mad

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing smut so please don’t annihilate me! I’m not into watersports but for some reason I wanted to write this. Enjoy?

The sofa shudders beneath them as they topple onto it, Taeyong wincing as something in the pocket of Doyoung's jeans juts harshly into his thigh; Doyoung struggles to yank it out before carelessly tossing it to the side and frantically attaching his mouth to Taeyong's neck, wet kisses smothering taut skin. As he makes to eliminate the space between them, Taeyong is reminded of the evident uncomfortableness in his stomach. 

He'd desperately needed to piss all night — the grimy club bathroom was occupied with people no doubt having unsafe sex, or doing drugs, or staring into the mirror watching their souls swirl around them, and Taeyong hadn't had time to wait around. 

Alas, he's beginning to regret that now. 

For a fleeting moment, as Doyoung's teeth nip at the skin underneath his jawline, Taeyong almost forgets the pressure against his bladder and gives in to his other senses. Doyoung licks a stripe up Taeyong's neck and Taeyong lets out a breathy whine at the way his skin prickles under his wet tongue. 

Hands quickly find his thighs and Taeyong momentarily looks down in the near dark to find slender fingers flexing around the width of his legs, knuckles and veins just visible in the lowlights of their flat. Doyoung squeezes once, twice, and then his hands trail across Taeyong's gradually-forming bulge and under the thin fabric of his tee. His hands are fucking freezing; the coldness of his fingertips — the sheer _shock_ that causes Taeyong's stomach to flinch upon contact — entices a hiss out of him, goes straight to his pelvis, reminds him once again of his dire need to piss.

But Doyoung's nimble fingers are spreading across his chest, thumbs flicking across his hard nipples, and Taeyong doesn't seem to have the strength to pull himself away despite the oversensitivity. In fact, he does the opposite, squeezes his crotch as close to Doyoung's as he possibly can, whining at the distinct lack of friction the inseam of his jeans supplies.

Doyoung's hands slip out of his t-shirt and trail into his hair instead. He plays with the strands at the base of his neck, tugging at them softly, and Taeyong _mewls_. He's an absolute sucker for his hair being played with and Doyoung knows that, knows exactly how to rile him up and keep him pliant. 

"God, you're a fucking angel." Doyoung's voice is low, an almost-whisper shrouded in a hazy seductiveness. Taeyong casts his gaze over him and finds Doyoung's eyes fixated on his mouth, his lips slightly parted, tongue peaking out one corner, adam's apple distinct even in the shitty lighting. 

Taeyong leans down and filthily licks across his mouth, marvelling at the warmth that arises when Doyoung parts his lips fully and meets Taeyong's tongue with his own. He tastes faintly of a cigarette remnants smothered to oblivion by alcohol, smoky in an oddly addicting way. He _smells_ of that same musk too, skin tacky with sweat from too much drinking and grinding; Taeyong's fingers dance across his neck in the spot where cologne once was. 

The hands in his hair tug harsher, sends tingles down his spine, and Taeyong senselessly grinds against him for a few beats. His stomach doesn't like that, each movement rocking his full bladder, so he slows with a groan; Doyoung's hands trail to grip his arse anyway to manually finish what Taeyong started. 

Doyoung is hard, Taeyong can feel the swell of it beneath him. Taeyong is too, cock straining against tight confines achingly so. He breaks the sloppy kiss and shoves his head into the crook of Doyoung's neck despairingly. The two of them shake together as Doyoung's hands rock Taeyong into him and Taeyong's whines are drawn out as warm breath against Doyoung's neck.

He grinds, gyrates, moves his hips in sync with Doyoung's hands until he's a stuttering, whining mess, but he finds himself incapable of reaching any sort of climax despite how hard he tries. He's too distracted by the fullness of his pain-tinged bladder to think about his own pleasure. 

"I really need to piss," he finally exhales into Doyoung's neck once it becomes too much.

Doyoung stops the rocking — which provides a bit of relief at least — and Taeyong's skin prickles as Doyoung's fingers leave his arse to trail up his sides. He presses his hands lightly against Taeyong's chest, as though to push him away, but when Taeyong detaches his lips from Doyoung's neck and makes to move, hands on his waist and wrist stop him.

His eyes quickly flicker down to Doyoung, who in turn gazes up as him with a conflicting expression. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, and his tongue peeks out again as he seems to have some sort of internal debate.

"I'm going to piss myself," Taeyong confusedly repeats. He doesn't mean for it to sound so broken, but he's half horny, half on the verge of a bladder infection and he's quite frankly too sensitive to ignore it any further.

Doyoung blinks. "Then piss."

"That's what I was doing," Taeyong drawls. He starts to draw away again but Doyoung pulls him back in with stern hands on his hips. 

"I mean..." His eyes flicker to a corner of the room and back, skittish and gorgeously dark. He coughs out a breathless, " _Here_." 

Scandalised, Taeyong guffaws against Doyoung's chest. "How fucking drunk are you baby?" 

"Just a bit." Doyoung says liltingly. His hands are rubbing up Taeyong's sides again, this time with intent. "But I'm serious." 

"You're kidding," Taeyong deadpans. He doesn't have time for this; give him a few more minutes and he'll be pissing on Doyoung for real — non-sexily at that, though he'd never consider any aspect of pissing to be sexy to begin with. 

"No, I'm not." Doyoung leans his head back against the sofa and smirks. It's a mixture of aggravating and teasing, and his fingers travel down to draw circles through the rugged fabric of Taeyong's jeans, close enough to his crotch that his stomach painfully flips.

"I'm not going to _piss_ on you, Doyoung..."

The circles become vague rubs, up and over his inner thighs. "I'm _asking_ you to."

"But—But the sofa, our clothes—"

Taeyong doesn't have a fucking clue why he's enlightening him, why he hasn't already escaped from this entire situation. Perhaps the dire need to piss is getting to his head.

It's ludicrous. Absurd. 

"We can clean up afterwards," Doyoung says nonchalantly like it's the most normal suggestion in the world. Taeyong buffers, real-time; Doyoung must sense his hesitance, the utter bewilderment rolling off his skin in waves, because his hands come to a halt atop his thighs. "You know you don't have to if you don't want to, baby." 

Taeyong keens at the word _baby_ , focuses on it so intently that he almost skips the clear out he'd been given. There is always an out, Taeyong knows that, knows that Doyoung would never force him to do anything he didn't want to do. And yet...

"I just don't know what you'd want me to _piss_ on you," Taeyong mutters. The words are slurred, and at this point he can't tell if it's from being too turned on that his cock hurts, or from his bladder being three seconds away from bursting, or the earlier alcohol coming back to bite him in the arse. 

All he knows is the consuming need for release. 

"Go to the bathroom," Doyoung begs, sensing his decline. 

"But—" He stops himself, unsure of what his dilemma even is. The prospect of pissing on his boyfriend's lap is absolutely absurd and he knows it, but _god_ — Doyoung's face when he had suggested it, those earnest eyes, that infuriating fucking smirk of his. 

Taeyong's dick twitches and he whimpers. 

He knows that there are plenty of people out there that actively engage in piss play — there's categories on porn sites labelled _watersports_ , for fuck's sake. But it isn't something that _they'd_ ever spoken about, let alone considered. Or, at least, _he'd_ never considered it. 

And now here he was, on Doyoung's lap, contemplating giving in.

"Yong, please, if you want to go to the bathroom I can wait." 

Taeyong fidgets, playing with the hem of his tee.

"And if I don't?" he finally chokes out, face burning up immediately at the implication. 

The edges of Doyoung's lips twitch slightly. 

"Whatever you want. Always."

Doyoung tucks his forefinger under Taeyong's wilting head, tilts it high enough that they're looking into one another's eyes and presses a soft peck to his lips before pulling back resolutely. 

"Okay, _fuck_ , fine," Taeyong groans. He shoves his head into the crook of Doyoung's neck again. This time, it's to hide his burning face and the sheer humiliation that arrives with his agreeance. "But I'm _hard_ , I can't piss when I'm hard." 

"Take your time," Doyoung coos, brushing a hand through Taeyong's hair. His other hand travels down his back and rests beneath the jut of his shoulder blades, where Doyoung can feel the tug of every jittery exhalation. " _Breathe_."

Taeyong does just that. He focuses on the sound of his own breathing, on the intoxicating scent of Doyoung's skin, plagues his mind with unsexy thoughts regarding anything _but_ his aching cock. 

Doyoung begins twirling strands of Taeyong's hair around his fingers, and it's a welcome distraction, soothes him just enough that he doesn't feel like he's on the verge of a panic attack.

He tries a few times to just... push, but it does nothing more than make his dick pulsate as it begins to soften. 

"This is humiliating," he says, muffled.

"Hey, Yong, look at me." He complies, and Doyoung tenderly wraps his arms around Taeyong's lithe figure. "I'm the one that suggested this, and I sure as _fuck_ won't degrade you for it."

"I know... I know." Because more than anything, Taeyong trusts Doyoung.

He leans in to peck Doyoung's lips and tries for a terse smile. Doyoung rubs down his back soothingly and Taeyong closes his eyes, focuses on the motions of palms against his spine. He pictures water trickling in similar motions, waterfalls crashing against hard rocks, the sound of a steamy running shower. 

When he finally begins to feel the build-up in the pit of his stomach, he shoves his head back into Doyoung's neck. He doesn't have the strength to give a warning, breaths deepening and lashes fluttering shut as soon that familiar sensation bolts through his body like a swarm of electricity. His urine exits him as though in slow motion to begin with, but after the initial drop it continues to stream for what feels like forever, hot against his thighs and very, very _wet_. 

It isn't lost on him that he's doing this on Doyoung's lap, fully dressed. But Doyoung _wanted this_ , wanted Taeyong to sit on his lap while he trembles and leaks and spills relieved moans into his neck. And Taeyong had _accepted_.

He buzzes with embarrassment and something more. It's alluring, how euphoric it feels to alleviate hours of discomfort. It feels like pure satisfaction. 

His knees are shaking as though his soul had just been drained from his body, and he feels his cock hardening again as his piss draws to an end because of the sheer _pleasure_ it encompassed. It begins to spread across his jeans — he'd see the dark, growing stains if he didn't have his eyes squeezed shut — and although Doyoung is probably wet too he continues rubbing his hands down Taeyong's back soothingly, cooing appreciation that Taeyong is too dizzy to understand. 

There's something so uniquely intimate about it that he almost wants to sob. It feels so tender, so giving, humiliating in a way that gives strength instead of taking it.

When the final dregs of piss leave his cock, his entire body crumples into itself and he clings onto Doyoung for support.

"Good job, baby," Doyoung whispers right by his ear. Taeyong smiles at the fond _baby_ once again, stews in the feeling of being held and cared for. 

Taeyong pulls back eventually. The air smells faintly like urine, because that's exactly what it is, but it can't be worse than the hours spent in the club earlier with rotting, sweaty bodies. 

The look on Doyoung's face is nothing but bewitching. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bitten raw.

"You liked that?" Taeyong asks shyly. 

" _God_ , Yong," Doyoung groans. "Of _course_."

Taeyong doesn't question it, just grabs ahold of Doyoung's jaw and smashes their lips together. 

He rocks freely now that his bladder is empty, and the newfound strength must knock Doyoung off-kilter, because for a second his lips stop moving and he doesn't know what to do with his hands, but then he's grabbing Taeyong by the hips and yanking him close, breathy moans escaping into the swirl of their tongues.

Taeyong mentally curses his wet, tight jeans because he's desperate for friction but they offer no relief, just frustration. He feels like a complete fucking _mess_ but all he can do is sink further into Doyoung’s mouth as they uselessly rock together.

All his senses are running on high, overwhelmed by so many emotions and touches and textures and thoughts — the only clarity is Doyoung, his tongue like an oasis in a desert, his hands grounding and stabilising. He guides Taeyong’s hips, synchronising their movements as to quell his frustration.

"You're so fucking pretty, angel,” Doyoung comments breathily.

He slips a hand under Taeyong’s t-shirt and Taeyong exhales sharply through his nose. Thumbs flick over his nipple, just once, eliciting a shocked moan. Satisfied, Doyoung leans in close enough that his nose is brushing against the sensitive spot just below Taeyong's ear. 

" _God_ , baby, you should’ve heard how pretty you sounded just then. Sat there, writhing, leaking, moaning in my fucking ear in that angelic rasp of yours.”

The sounds that spill from Taeyong's mouth thereafter are embarrassed squawks dripping in arousal. He’s so hard, so desperate to reach his climax. 

Doyoung shuffles forward on the sofa to bring them as close together as possible, arms wrapping tightly around Taeyong's waist as he grinds up into him with newfound fervour. He kisses up Taeyong's neck slowly, licking hotly at the spot below his ear, teeth eventually tugging at his earlobe. It ignites a spark in Taeyong's gut that he squeezes his eyes shut to chase, unprecedented moans dripping from him as he loses all control and flails like his life depends on it despite his thighs aching like all hell.

His cock twitches once, twice, rubbing harshly against layers of fabric, and then he's whimpering erratically as he unloads into his boxers, cum mingling with dormant piss, Doyoung's teeth grazing his sensitive neck as the cosmos unfold within him. 

Doyoung draws back with a peck against his cheek, wasting no time before unbuttoning his jeans and letting his cock spring against his stomach. Taeyong spits onto his own hand — as though he doesn’t already have enough piss and pre-cum to work with — then languidly reaches for Doyoung’s cock in the dark, utterly exhausted, fingers spreading across its length. 

Judging by the way Doyoung keens and inhales, he's close. 

Taeyong trails his fingers across the tip, already slick with pre-cum, and Doyoung jolts. Taeyong smiles contentedly and leans forward as he trails his hands teasingly slow across his length. He can feel the reverberations of Doyoung's moans as he licks skittishly across his neck, murmuring thoughtless praise into the skin there as he builds up friction. 

Doyoung gets louder, begs for Taeyong to tug him _harder_ , _faster_ , and then Taeyong is biting down on the skin above his collarbones as an outpour of cum seeps across his fingers, Doyoung shaking beneath him.

He gives a few more jerks and retracts his hand, trailing kisses up Doyoung’s neck as Doyoung comes down from his high.

When he pulls back, he raises the soiled hand to his lips and slips his pinky into his mouth, sucking off the salty remnants of cum. All the while Doyoung's eyes are fixated on him, lips pulled into a sexy, languid smirk. 

He lets his hands drop from his mouth, dragging against his bottom lip, not fussing over the cum he accidentally smears across his chin, and slumps against Doyoung. 

“This is going to take the _piss_ to clean up,” he teases.

Doyoung pats his arse lightly and says, in a raspy, fucked-out voice that could have Taeyong hard again in three seconds, "Well aren't _you_ the comedic little angel?"

Taeyong playfully nips at his shoulder, too spent to retaliate.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are appreciated!


End file.
